Something Wicked
by Faded Nights
Summary: Cast and crew of a production of 'Macbeth' are dying for no seeable reason. When the director comes to Vicki for help, the last thing she expects to discover is that the old superstition of speaking the name in a theatre might have basis in fact.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and associated paraphernalia are copyright Tanya Huff and various television companies. No profit is being made off of this work.

Note: This follows after my fic **Prosperity **and sits in canon arc somewhere between "The Devil You Know" and "Wrapped." **Prosperity** doesn't have to be read to understand what is going on here plot-wise, but I recommend that you read it for character development.

Summary: Cast and crew of a production of 'Macbeth' are dying for no seeable reason. When the producer comes to Vicki for help, the last thing she expects to discover is that the old superstition of speaking the name in a theatre might have basis in fact.

* * *

**Something Wicked**

_Prologue_

Ice no longer frosted the glass windows of the new Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts. It was most definitely spring once again, and the towering opera house had lived through its second winter as a functioning theatre. People crossing where University met Queen barely noticed the building anymore, unless it was where they were headed for as they raced across the four lane road the was University Avenue.

Elizabeth was usually one of those who ignored the opera house's presence - she lived and worked close to here and it had ceased interesting her in the second week after the construction walls had come down around it. However, today was different somehow. Today she could feel something coming from the building, though she wasn't as all sure what the feeling was, or where it had come from. She wasn't usually the sensitive type.

At least, she wasn't the type that was sensitive to psychic stuff. She left that to people on fantasy programs on television, and people who proclaimed themselves as Tarot and Palm readers and had tiny little shops above restaurants where they'd milk money out of you and then claim that you had to come back for another session later, because everything was blurry but it _could_ come clear. She'd never thought highly of them. Why couldn't they find a _real_ job, like everyone else in the city?

But this wasn't about Tarot card readers. At least, she really hoped it wasn't about Tarot card readers. She'd never gotten weird vibes off of psychics, but she was definitely getting them off of the opera house right now. Strange. She didn't_think_ anyone had died there. It would've been all over the papers if someone had. Maybe the subway had just gone by under her feet and she was just feeling the wind coming up from the grates in the sidewalk. Sure, she should be used to it by now, but no one else was reacting to anything, so what was wrong with her?

It could be exhaustion. She pondered that for a few long moments as she made her way down the sidewalk and passed the towering building, headed for the entrance to the PATH system that would let her finish her walk to work in warmth.

"Wouldn't go in there, were I you," a woman's voice said near her ear as she reached for the door that led to the underground tunnels. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and spun, looking around for the person who had spoken to her. Normally, she would have ignored it. Random people who tried to start conversations with strangers on Toronto streets tended to be ignored by the rest of the population, who were only concerned with getting to their destination as quickly as possible.

Something about the voice though, had sent a chill through her body and down to her bones. It spoke to the depths of her subconscious, some remaining animalistic part of her being - that she didn't even believe existed - and caused her brain to rail against progressing any further on her commute. '_Can__'__t do that. Too dangerous.__'_ Her mind was telling her.

But the source of the voice wasn't anywhere to be found. If anything, the people walking up and down the sidewalk around her were trying to force themselves into a casual appearance, so that they _wouldn__'__t_ be noticed by her. They thought she was crazy. She couldn't blame them, because she was starting to think so too.

'_Okay. No one there, and you can__'__t afford to be late for work again,__'_ she scolded herself, finally fighting against herself and pulling the door open. It was silent on the other side. The hallway should have been full of people rushing to work, even if they were only the retail workers who manned the stores that lined the tunnels of the PATH system. Instead, it was deserted. The disembodied voice had been right, even if she didn't want to admit that she had heard it. She really didn't want to be here.

Shaking herself, Elizabeth began to walk through the passage, shucking her coat off and hanging it on her arm as she glanced at the locked doors that were the underground entrance to the Four Seasons Centre. She couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was something seriously wrong down here, and it was starting to make her skin crawl. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. She hadn't had her morning coffee. Nothing was allowed to mess up her day before she'd even had her coffee.

Secure in that, and more than confident in the general good nature of the people of Toronto, Elizabeth decided that she still had more than enough time to get to work, and that a two minute detour really wouldn't hurt her any, even if her boss_had _been on a rampage lately. Curious, even though she didn't want to be, and even though the hair that was standing on the back of her neck was telling her that she should really just go to work and then take a different route home, Elizabeth crossed the hall and peered through the glass doors and into the hallway beyond.

There wasn't much to see, really. There was probably a staircase somewhere that led to the actual opera house. However, even an empty corridor wasn't doing anything to soothe her nerves. There was something going on here. There had to be. Maybe she should call the police, but what could she say? '_Hi, sorry to bother you, but the Four Seasons Centre is giving me weird vibes. No, I__'__m not on any medications.__'_ Right. Because she really needed to deal with the repercussions of that.

Frowning and shaking her head, Elizabeth turned away from the doors. She was being stupid. She'd probably just ate something funny at dinner and it had decided to make its presence known as she crossed the street. She'd go to the office, have a coffee, get some work done and go home to sleep afterward. She was sure that by about nine-thirty she would be feeling normal again anyway.

Still… What had that flash her peripheral vision had caught when she had turned her head been? Against her will, she turned her head back to look through the doors. Somewhere above, she swore that she heard the sound of an organ being played - but that was impossible. Even if someone was rehearsing on the stage, the building had to be soundproof. Surely it wouldn't carry this far? And then, she felt a chill, as though someone had poured ice water down her back. There were eyes, disembodied eyes, staring back at her from the other side of the glass.

Frozen in shock, Elizabeth couldn't move, even though all she wanted to do was turn and run. To the office, home; she didn't care where. She just needed to get out, as quickly as possible. But her legs were frozen, she couldn't move. "No," she heard herself whisper.

"Macbeeethhh…" a woman's voice rasped. It was the same one as before, she was sure of it. Even as she heard it though, the world went black, and she didn't think anymore.

* * *

Chapter One Preview 

"What do you mean there weren't any marks on the body?"

"Just as I said. No marks. An immaculate death," Mohadevan replied. "Maybe you should call Vicki."

"…Not yet," Mike growled, shaking his head


	2. Chapter 1

**Something Wicked**

_Chapter One_

"Please calm down, Miss. Yes, I'm putting you through to the police. No, I don't believe that you're in any danger. Can you take a few deep breaths for me? There you go. Good job. It's going to be okay. I have an ambulance on its way that should be there soon. You hear sirens? That's good. Someone's there? You're sure they're in uniform, Miss? Okay, I'm going to let you go now…"

Trevor took a long breath and shook a kink out of his neck as he disconnected the line that he'd been speaking to the woman through. It had only sounded as though the deceased woman had suffered from a heart attack, but it wasn't his place to tell that to the woman who had called. Especially if she'd only happened on the body and hadn't actually seen the woman die. He could leave all of the details of that to the police.

Weird things happened in this job though. Things that he wouldn't expect, being a telephone operator. Even if he _did _work for the emergency line. Still, after a decade he'd gotten used to most of it. The occasional bizarre call came through, but not usually anything that he couldn't handle. Things his co-workers got though. Now _those_ were interesting.

Why then, couldn't he shake the feeling that there was more to this case than what he could see on the outside? He wondered it even as he pushed a flashing button to connect to the next person who had called in. He couldn't really afford to be distracted - too many people in this city relied on him to be able to do his job. Even so…

"911, what is your emergency?"

* * *

"No witnesses. No signs of foul play. Just a body, sprawled on the ground in the middle of the PATH system on a Tuesday morning during rush hour. _Why_ were we called in again?" Detective Michael Celluci grumbled under his breath to his partner as he supervised the lifting of the corpse into the back of the ambulance. It would be taken to the morgue, where he was quite sure that Mohadevan would prove what he had already observed.

It had to have been a naturally occurring death. Heart attack, maybe. Whatever it had been, it had to have been quick. The only semi-witness that they had - the woman who had called emergency upon seeing the body - said that she had just gone to the bathroom, and that when she had returned to her store to prepare for their 9 o'clock opening, the woman had been lying in front of the entrance to the Four Seasons Centre. There was nothing unusual about it. People collapsed all the time. Though apparently healthy thirty-somethings didn't usually die after the collapse. Maybe she'd been on medication.

Mike tapped his pen on the cover of his pad of paper in thought. At least they had identification - a whole bunch of it, actually - and they knew where she worked, so finding out more about her wouldn't be that difficult. Maybe, if this _had _been a murder - which he doubted - they could have it wrapped up in a couple of days. Wouldn't that be nice, after the fiasco that his last case had been. Then again, Vicki and all of her supernatural crap had been involved in that one, so it really wasn't any wonder that it had been a fiasco. A nice, normal case was just what he needed.

"Clearly, someone up above doesn't think it's that simple. There was no one around, Mike. That in itself is unusual enough for PATH during rush hour," Kate replied, scribbling something down in almost illegible handwriting on her own pad of paper.

"What, you think it was some carefully orchestrated murder? On a Tuesday morning during rush hour in the middle of the downtown?" he asked in disbelief.

"You never know. We can't eliminate anything until we know more about who she was and what her habits were," Kate responded, glancing up at him.

Mike tilted his head back and forth. "Fine, we'll do it your way," he agreed. He shouldn't be cursing normal cases for being so mundane. He really shouldn't. It almost invited trouble of the kind that Vicki dealt with. All the same, what was that strange feeling that he got whenever he got too close to the doors to the opera house, and why were the woman's fingerprints all over the glass? Closed buildings weren't all that interesting, in his opinion.

"Maybe she had tickets to a show. Canadian Opera Company's putting on the opera version of Macbeth," Kate commented, her eyes following his. Mike gave an uneasy shrug.

"Yeah, maybe."

* * *

"Cheating wives. Cheating husbands. Cheating… boyfriends? Why don't they just split? It would make my job easier," Vicki grumbled, shifting through the pile of folders on her desk. In the few months since she'd last had an 'unusual' case, her cases had been so mundane that she'd begun wishing that something interesting would happen. Not that she would ever admit that to Coreen or Henry. Especially not to Henry. She shuddered at the thought.

"_Some_ people still believe in love," Coreen said, peering over her shoulder.

"It's not love if you're getting a Private Investigator to stalk your boyfriend. That's just mistrust, and way too much money to spare," Vicki replied waspishly, grabbing one of the folders and whirling around to hit her assistant with it. "And I've never said that I didn't believe in love." Coreen ducked the paper weapon and rose back up, grinning.

"So, how's Henry? He hasn't been around in a while." The question was innocent enough, but for some reason her cheeks still flared up, as though she were a teenager with a crush instead of a thirty year old woman with a steady boyfriend.

"Henry's fine," she replied, a little stiffly to try and disguise her immediate embarrassed reaction. Coreen was grinning stupidly - she wasn't going to live this down now. "What?" she barked, a bit irritated as she turned her head down toward her desk to pretend to focus on the papers in front of her.

"It must be love. You're completely embarrassed by even a mention of him," Coreen said. Vicki moved to hit her again, only to find that she had crossed to the relatively safe part of the room, and therefore was completely opposite from Vicki.

"Yeah? You just stand over there because you're not going to be safe if you come any closer," the P.I. replied as she pushed her glasses up her nose and returned to her work.

"Meanie," Coreen commented immaturely as she went into the other room. She came back a moment later with her laptop and sat down on the couch that was against the opposite wall, across from Vicki's desk and out of harm's way.

"So. Working on one of those spousal cases tonight?" Coreen asked after a moment. Vicki shook her head.

"No, thank god. I have a date," she replied, offhandedly. Or well, as offhandedly as she could, considering she was fighting not to blush again. What was _wrong_ with her?

"Oooh, spill. Where's Henry taking you?"

"None of your business!"

Coreen stuck out her tongue, then held something up over her head and waved it. Vicki squinted at it a long moment before realising it was her day planner.

"Let's see…" Coreen said, bringing it back down and flipping a few pages. "Oh! Here we go… Wow, dinner at the Sutton Place hotel, huh? What's he going to eat?"

Vicki just glared, though it was wasted on Coreen, whose attention was still turned onto the book. She _could_ have lunged across the room to grab it, but the damage was already done.

"You know, _I_ don't have any plans tonight…" Coreen was saying as she looked up and caught Vicki's glare. "What?"

"You're not coming along on my date!" Vicki exclaimed hotly.

Coreen grinned. "Why not? I think it would be fun, _and_ then you wouldn't be eating alone with Henry just… sitting there."

"I'm not even going to justify that comment with a response," Vicki muttered, rising and grabbing her coat. Her _winter_ coat. It was supposed to be spring, but the frost was being awfully slow in leaving this year, and it wasn't even warm enough outside for a spring jacket half of the time – and then the rest of the time she sweated. Toronto had a terrible in-between-months climate.

"That was a response," Coreen pointed out in between spurts of rapid clattering as she typed. Vicki frowned, but chose not to add any more to the conversation, instead pulling her coat on.

"I'm going to grab food. Want something?" she asked as she crossed the room.

Silence, then, "Whatever you're having," as the door was closing.

* * *

"Officially, I suppose she died of heart failure."

Mohadevan's words were too carefully chosen, and too sceptical sounding for Celluci to _not_ stay behind in the morgue after Kate had already left. She would probably hate him for keeping something from her later, and Mike really didn't want to know what was hiding behind those words anyway, but he knew there was nothing he could do _but_ ask.

Some days he hated his job.

"Officially? You _suppose_?" he asked, tone low, almost a whisper and harsh amongst the buzzing sounds of fans and humming of the appliances in the room.

Mohadevan, not at all put off by his demeanour, shrugged. "The cause of all death is, ultimately, heart failure, and that's certainly what's happened to this woman." She gestured at the covered body on the slab as she spoke. "But there's nothing in her medical charts to suggest what could have caused it, and there isn't a single mark on her body."

Mike processed that. Slowly. "No marks on the body? None at all?" he asked.

"Just as I said," Mohadevan replied. "No marks at all, and nothing in her medical history. Nothing to suggest this was induced in any way at all, for that matter. It is an absolutely immaculate death and _fascinating_…" The coroner trailed off and turned back to look at the slab, her attention between it and the chart in her hand, as though she were rechecking what she'd already told him.

"Come on. Couldn't it have been poison? Or something you haven't found yet?" Mike asked.

"All of my tests aren't back. When the results have returned I'll be able to tell you for sure, but my experience tells me I'm not going to find anything out of place. Perhaps you should call Vicki."

Mike scowled at her. This would _not_ be one of _those_ cases. It had been so straight forward when they'd found the body. Collapsed woman, dead at the scene. How could it be more complicated than that? And maybe it _had_ looked a little bit suspicious, but most suddenly dead bodies did.

There would be a logical explanation behind this, Mike was sure of it.

"Not yet. She doesn't need to get involved in this and start seeing ghosts where there aren't any. I'll wait for the rest of your results to come in, call me as soon as they do."

With that, Mike turned and left the morgue, already planning on buying Kate coffee, or dinner, or something to make up for making her wait. He ignored the slightly exasperated expression Mohadevan wore as he went. There wasn't anything unusual about this case, and he most certainly didn't know anything that he was keeping from his partner. At least, not yet, and he didn't _plan_ on learning anything he would have to keep from his partner, because something in those test results was going to tell them _exactly_ what the woman had died from.

Some days, Mike really, really _hated_ his job.

* * *

Claire ran down the street, her mind racing. There had to be someone she could go to - _anyone_ who wouldn't think that she was an absolute nutcase or spouting tall tales. And if she couldn't find anyone, then Claire figured she might as well just curl up on a park bench and let a late spring frost give her hypothermia, because she was most certainly going to die anyway.

Her gaze locked in front of her, Claire paused on a street corner and looked around, ignoring the people pushing past her and the dirty glances they gave her for standing unmoving in the middle of the sidewalk. Reaching out one hand, she felt the currents of the air and took in a deep breath, then nodded.

"That's it!" she whispered aloud to herself before taking off running again, this time headed south instead of North. She knew someone who could help. It was just whether or not they would be willing to.

* * *

Chapter Two Preview

"There've been two bodies found in two days near the Four Seasons Centre. Weird, huh?"

Vicki looked up. "_Two?_ Right in the middle of downtown?"

"Yeah. No news reports on the second one yet, but one of the blogs I follow has a huge report."

* * *

After a two and a half year hiatus on this piece, I'm back! Going to try and get it out quickly, hopefully on a similar schedule as the first instalment. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 2

**Something Wicked**

_Chapter Two_

Though she looked over her shoulder at least three times as the maître'd led her and Henry to their table, and even spent a good long minute staring out of the window making sure Coreen didn't make good on her threat to follow her on her date, Vicki didn't actually think anything out of the ordinary was likely to happen while she was out with Henry. She was going to have a nice normal date – or, well, as normal as it could be when her date was a vampire – and spend tonight enjoying herself.

"Vicki," Henry prompted when she was halfway through her meal. Vicki looked up from her plate, still holding her cutlery posed over the chicken breast on her plate. At her expectant look, Henry tilted his head toward the restaurant's bar. "But don't look too quickly."

An unfriendly look answered him, and Vicki used the window beside their table to get a look at the woman sitting there, apparently staring at them. Vicki couldn't tell where her fascination lay, and, uninterested, turned her attention back to her dinner a moment later.

Henry frowned at her.

"What do you want me to do? March over there and tell her to keep her eyes off what's mine?" Vicki asked. Henry's expression turned amused.

"I think that would be a little unnecessary. Finding out why she's staring at _you_ though, seems slightly more important."

Vicki's eyes found the woman's reflection in the dark window again, and she tried to gauge just where the woman's attention lay. Henry could've been right. The woman's attention might actually be on her and not on him... and even that could have been okay if it wasn't an unnatural sort of attention.

"And what's your suggestion?"

Henry made a gesture toward the bar and the woman sitting at it, the motion trained and powerful, rooted in chivalry. "At least acknowledge her attention."

Vicki sighed. "I really think it would be better just to ignore her," she said, voice low. Something in her body language must have gotten the woman's attention though, because the next thing Vicki knew, she was there, standing next to their table. Just as well. Henry looked like he had a chiding '_Vicki'_ on the tip of his tongue.

The first thing Vicki noticed about the woman, beyond the slightly mousey look she'd taken in while studying the reflection, was that she was holding a business card in her right hand. A moment's glance longer and, even though she was practically blind in the low restaurant lighting, Vicki was fairly certain it was _her_ business card. That cleared things up somewhat, at least.

The woman glanced at Henry when he shifted (and did she imagine that the glance was more wary than it should have been?), then returned her full attention to Vicki. "Miss Nelson, right?"

Vicki sighed and nodded, cutting her gaze across to Henry in an exasperated look. If this was going to be business, it could have waited until business hours. Or at least until she was in the office. Approaching her while she was out on a date was _not_ the best way to get on her good side.

"And you are...?"

"Claire Beauvais," the woman said quickly. "I need your help, Miss Nelson."

"How did you know we would be here?" Henry asked, sounding a little dangerous. Vicki cast a look askance at him, but either he ignored it or didn't notice it at all, because he didn't make any motion toward having registered it.

Claire Beauvais waved the card in her hand and, voice low so as almost to be a whisper, said, "I used a tracking spell. Very simple. I meant no harm by it."

"If this is business, you have my card. You can call me to set up an appointment, or come into the office. I'm usually there during regular business hours, but if I'm not, then my assistant will be holding up the fort..." Vicki trailed off, trying to speak over her and drive her away but able to tell the woman wasn't going to be dissuaded from stating her business here and now.

"This can't wait until tomorrow, Miss Nelson," Miss Beauvais responded, voice slightly pleading. "People are _dying_, and—"

"Why haven't you gone to the police? If you're talking about murder, I'm not the one you should be coming to," Vicki responded, voice as harsh as she dared.

The woman was shaking her head though, and that, coupled with the look Henry was giving her, told her she didn't want to hear what came next. She was about to be immersed fully back into weirdsville. Wonderful.

"I can't go to the police, they wouldn't believe me. They wouldn't understand, but I know what's going on, and I know you will. You have to help me stop it!" Obviously frightened, she wasn't really making any sense.

Vicki sighed again. "We can't do this here. Just... let me get this packed up to eat back at the office." As she spoke, Henry gestured to their server to come with the bill and Vicki watched the man scramble to his server station instead of meeting the painfully grateful look on Claire Beauvais' face.

"How did you get here?" Henry asked when the bill was paid and Vicki had gotten her doggie bag. His voice was painfully pleasant, clearly hiding his real reaction to the woman. Henry hated magic. Vicki didn't doubt that he was going to make this case more difficult than it would be already.

"I walked. Well, ran more, really. I cam here directly from rehearsal," she explained. Then added, "At the Four Seasons Centre," to clarify a moment later. She squirmed under Henry's distrusting look, but was clearly made of stronger stuff that she looked, because she didn't back down. "I would appreciate riding along in the car with you to Miss Nelson's office."

Henry looked at Vicki, his eyebrows slightly raised, expression saying 'Look at the nerve.' Vicki, though, didn't let the expression move her any more than Claire had.

"She might as well." The look _that_ comment earned her promised a lecture on the morals of magic users later. Claire only looked at her gratefully again, and Vicki began to dread her long, upcoming role as mediator.

"You sit in the seat behind mine," Henry ordered as they reached the car. Claire made no argument, just walked around to the driver's side and climbed in the backseat after Henry remotely unlocked the doors.

It was a long, tense and quiet ride to her Queen St. office.

* * *

"Tell me again why we should help you," Henry demanded after Claire had delivered her story. Vicki was still trying to work through what she'd been told – and, more importantly, how it was she was supposed to help – but she suspected Henry had barely even listened. Likely, he'd been too busy trying to figure out if she was trying to curse him with every motion she made. It was a bit annoying to watch, actually.

"This spirit, sorceress, whatever it is, is using the play as an excuse to _kill_ people!" Claire exclaimed. "Just because you don't seem to like me, does _not_ mean I'm lying to you. There is _murder_ happening in _your_ city, vampire. You should care more about that than about me."

"Hang on," Vicki called out, holding up a hand, the other pinching the bridge of her nose. "Go over this again for me. You're putting on Macbeth, the _Shakespeare_ play, and..."

"And one of my actors has died already, as well as an un-associated woman who wasn't even _in _the theatre at the time, or around when we were rehearsing. There is something, another spell caster, or a spirit, _something_ using the old superstition to commit _murder_."

Vicki frowned, looked down at her notepad where she'd written all of this down already, the asked, "Why does it have to be magic? Someone could just be killing people."

The look Claire gave her – one almost exactly echoed by Henry – told her she was being dense, and seemed to wonder if it was on purpose. Vicki stared her down, unwilling to discount the theory that this was just a regular crime, no supernatural stuff involved, without some sort of solid evidence to the contrary.

"I've felt other magic around the theatre. Magic that isn't mind, but I can't trace it. That's how I know, Miss Nelson," Claire said. She sounded sure of herself. Very sure. All the same...

"I prefer to look into all of the avenues, Miss Beauvais. I'm not going to assume this could only have been done by magic, and you shouldn't either."

"But you'll look into it? You'll help me to stop this?" Claire asked, looking hopeful, albeit a bit irritated that Vicki wasn't willing to take everything she said at face value.

_Would_ she look into a couple of murders without a badge, without any real avenues, and one that could just be a regular, non-supernatural-savvy-cop crime?

Feeling resigned, Vicki gave an open, conceding gesture. She knew the answer to that question without it really having to be posed. "I'll look into it. Let's discuss rates."

* * *

"Saw a new job file on your desk when I got here this morning. What's up? Witch? Yeti? Another vampire? Ooooh, I know!" Coreen's face lit up. "Zombies, right? Tell me it's zombies."

"It's not zombies. It's probably not anything," Vicki responded, her eyes finding the target of the conversation on her desk. She'd put it together when Claire left the night before. It was very thin.

"Well it can't be another cheating husband, not if it showed up after _I'd_ gone home already." Coreen grabbed the file, reaching over her computer to do it. "Murder?" she asked, not yet opening it.

"Apparently."

"Really? Cool. But does the client know you're not a cop anymore?"

"Apparently not."

"You don't sound impressed. But, kinda related, one of the blogs I follow reported this morning that two bodies have been found in two days nears the Four Seasons Centre. That's not a bad part of town. Weird, huh?"

Vicki looked up at her, trying to figure out why that sounded wrong. "_Two_? Both of them right in the middle of downtown?"

"Yeah. First one was found in the PATH right near there, and there're no news reports on the second one yet, but unofficially the guy was found dead on the street this morning, pretty much right outside the front doors."

"Damn," Vicki swore, not able to think of anything else to say. "Anything funny about the bodies?"

Coreen shrugged. "No coroner's report out yet, too early." Then her eyes narrowed. "Whyyy? Where was _your _murder?"

Vicki gave her a sarcastic look at the possessive. "Read it," she said, gesturing at the file. "You're my creepy things expert. Tell me what you think."

"I am an occult hobbyist, not a 'creepy things expert,'" Coreen responded haughtily.

"Creepy things expert. I don't have room on my payroll for an _occult hobbyist_."

Coreen stuck out her tongue. "Demoted occult hobbyist it is," she responded, flipping the file open. "Ooooh. _'Fair is foul and foul is fair...'_" she murmured as she read.

Vicki rolled her eyes.

"Do not roll your eyes at Shakespeare! Macbeth is a great play."

"Uh huh." Vicki gestured at the file. "And it's apparently killing people. Back to work."

Looking far too interested, Coreen went back to reading the page of notes. At least _someone_ would have fun with this.

* * *

"Another one of these and we're going to have to put out a public alert for this area," Kate commented, attention on the body on the slab, though she was speaking to him.

Mike ran a hand across his head. "Like the media hasn't taken care of that for us already."

Kate turned to look at him, her arms crossed. "_Officially_, Mike. You knew what I meant."

His fingers went through his hair again. "Yeah, I did. Listen. Why don't we get lunch and then go back to canvassing the intersection. Then first thing tomorrow we go out again to catch all of the commuters, make sure none of them are avoiding coming forward with info."

"Hope there isn't another murder between now and then," Kate added.

"Hope there isn't another murder between now and then," he repeated. "Your turn to pay."

His partner chuckled. She hadn't noticed how nervous he was. Good. "Fine, but it's Chinese again. Meet you upstairs in 20."

She turned and left the room, leaving Mike staring after her, watching and listening. Then he turned on Mohadevan as soon as he was sure she was completely gone. "So? Did the tests from the other body come back yet? You said this looked the same. Hell, _I_ could tell it looked the same."

The coroner didn't make a motion either way; neither a nod, nor a shake of her head. Instead, she pulled a sheet of paper from the print out tray of the fax machine behind her.

"Of course it's still too early for _all_ of the results to be in, but—" she held up a hand when Mike opened his mouth "—I do have _this_, which is one of the more important results, I think." Here, she waved the paper in her hand.

Impatient, Mike tapped his foot. "And?"

"And this proves that Vicki is still who you should call. I was correct. The woman's death was completely immaculate. It is _fascinating_. You ought to contact Vicki to see if _she_ perhaps knows how it could have been done."

Mike scowled at her. He wasn't annoyed at the coroner, not really, more at the suggestion – no, _confirmation_ – that this would be another of _those_ cases. One of those cases where he tried to work with Vicki, but instead she ran around with _Henry_, not sharing the workload, not sharing information, just... _nothing_.

"And our man is the same?"

Mohadevan nodded. "I've also contacted some colleagues, at other morgues around the city, trying to find out if anyone else has seen something like this before. I'll let you know if I learn anything."

Mike nodded, checked his watch, and then darted for the door. In the meantime, there had to be _some_ part of that info he could share with his partner.

* * *

Chapter Three Preview

"You know, if you'd come to me yesterday, I coulda helped 'ya."

"If I'd come to you yesterday, from what you've told me, you wouldn't have believed me."

"Are you kidding me, Mike? If _you_ had come to me with something like this, I wouldn't have any doubts at all."


	4. Chapter 3

**Something Wicked**

_Chapter Three_

When the phone rang at 4 o'clock that afternoon, Vicki simply stared at it, waiting for it to go to voice mail. It didn't, and she heard murmuring from Coreen in the other room as she dealt with the caller.

Coreen came to the doorway, standing with her hands on her hips. Past her, Vicki could see the phone still lying across her desk, off the hook. "It's Mike," Coreen said when Vicki met her eyes.

Vicki sighed. "And what does Mike want?"

"He won't tell me. Something about confidentiality, so I tried to tell him you weren't here. He didn't buy that either."

Vicki gave her a sceptical look. "Confidential, huh?" she murmured, then grabbed the phone up from her desk. "Hey, Mike. What'cha got for me?"

"You sound awfully cheerful, Vic," Mike grumbled. Coreen disappeared from the doorway and Vicki heard a 'click' when she hung up the other phone. In a moment, the Goth girl was perched on the edge of her desk, clearly with the intent to listen in on the conversation. Vicki let her.

"Pretty full workload, beyond trying to promote herself, assistant hasn't tried to get more money out of me for a week—" this earned her a sarcastic look from Coreen "—and things are only about as weird as normal, over here. Why, Mike, should I not be cheerful?"

She heard him make a frustrated noise at the other end of the line. "Be as cheerful as you want Vicki. I need to discuss something with you, at the office, in private. I'll bring dinner."

Vicki raised an eyebrow, looking at Coreen who gave her a curious look, unable to hear the other half of the conversation.

"Dinner sounds good. I'll be in the office 'til about 7."

"I'll be there in 20," Mike said, then hung up without saying anything else. Vicki put the phone back into its cradle a moment later.

"What's he want?" Coreen asked. "That wasn't a very long conversation for 'confidential' info."

Vicki shook her head, pushing her chair back a bit from her desk so she could lift her feet up to the top of it. "I have no idea. Delicate, I guess. He didn't want to say anything over the phone. Or maybe he just didn't want to say anything where he was. I don't even _know_ where he was."

Coreen sat down on the couch. "So we just sit and wait? Maybe he's got something weird for us."

Vicki gave her a flat look. "We have weird. We're going to look at weird tonight. Why do we need more weird?"

"You can never have too much weird. Besides, maybe you have the same weird. You guys get the same weird a lot."

Vicki supposed that she was right there. Maybe a little bit _too_ right.

* * *

"So now I've got two bodies, and a coroner who's telling me they couldn't possibly have died naturally. What the hell am I supposed to make of this? How am I supposed to deal with it?" Mike demanded. He looked like he wanted to hit something, and Vicki gestured toward the heavy bag hanging in the other room.

"Dunno what to tell you, Mike," Vicki said, picking up a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks and sticking it into her mouth as he shook his head at her invitation. "I've got weird stuff on my plate too. Where'd you say your bodies were found?"

Mike frowned at her over his take-out container. "I didn't."

Vicki smiled. "I know. Anything to do with the Queen and University bodies?"

Mike made a bit of a choking noise and took a quick swig of beer to clear his throat. "Since when did you monitor social media sites?"

"I don't. Coreen does. So?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed, then, after a long moment said, "Yeah, those are them." Vicki felt a moment of guilt at forcing him to share info about an ongoing investigation with a civilian, then shook it off. He'd come to her.

"Great, 'cause that's the case I'm working on too."

Mike's expression turned flat, and Vicki knew the lecture that was coming before he even opened his mouth. She let him give it anyway, lest she be surprised by it sometime later. "This is a murder investigation, Vicki. You're a civilian. You shouldn't have even touched it."

"Gee. Thanks, Mike. I'd never have known that if you hadn't pointed it out."

He glared at her. She shook her head. "Look, Mike. Here's what I know about your murder," she began, then riddled off everything Claire had told her. She could tell Mike was listening closely, and when she finished he sat for a long moment, taking it in.

"So we're on the same case again," he said finally.

Vicki made a face, grimace put on, pretending to be as annoyed as he obviously was by the idea.

At least she could discount regular murder for this – though she wasn't really happy Claire had been completely correct. Having access to the coroner's reports for the bodies, though… That might help her solve this anyway.

"You know, if you'd come to me yesterday, before the client did, I coulda helped ya," Vicki said. "But she seemed really worried about involving the police."

He was glaring at her again, and he put his food down and crossed his arms. "If I'd come to you yesterday, from what you've told me, you wouldn't have believed me anyway."

It was Vicki's turn to frown at him, hers purely out of disbelief. "Are you kidding me, Mike? You're the last person I would ever expect to come to me with something like this. If _you'd_ been the first one I'd heard it from, I wouldn't have any doubts at all. Hell, even having heard it all from someone else first, I still don't have any now."

His look was doubtful. "Does that mean you're going to help me?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Because you thought I was really going to say no."

They stared at each other for a long moment, lasting until the alarm went off on Vicki's clock. She looked over at it. The phone rang a moment later, and as Coreen wasn't around, Vicki reached for it.

"Vicki Nelson Investigations," she said, despite knowing _exactly _who was on the other end.

"I'm just leaving," Henry said on the other end. "I'll be by to pick you up soon."

Vicki looked at Mike, who had an expectant look on his face. She mouthed, '_Henry,_' and earned an exasperated look.

"I'll be ready. Guess what?"

A hesitation, during which she was sure Henry had expected to be hanging up the phone, then, "Yes?"

"It wasn't a regular murder."

"The witch told you that," Henry reminded her. She nodded and gestured with the hand that wasn't holding the phone.

"I know, I know, but I have a confirmed coroner's report now."

Another hesitation. "Detective Celluci's working on the case, then?" Henry's voice was painfully polite.

"'Course he is. Was there any doubt?"

"I had my hopes."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll see you in a few, Henry," she said, then placed the phone back into its cradle.

Mike's face was still frozen in the same expression.

"Don't say it," she said, holding up a hand to stop him saying whatever it was that he wanted to say.

"Where are you two going tonight?" he asked with a suspicious lilt in his voice. Vicki let it go, because she was sure that wasn't what he had wanted to say at all.

"We're _working_," she stressed. The answer received a doubtful look. "Henry doesn't trust my newest client, so he's tagging along and playing guard vampire." A continued doubtful look from Mike. "What?"

"Guard vampire?" he asked with a snort. Again, _probably_ not what he actually wanted to say. She shrugged.

"Guard vampire."

* * *

"Knock it off, Henry."

It was pretty clear to Vicki that Henry made Claire nervous. Since that was exactly what he'd set out to do, it was also clear that he was completely satisfied by it and not going to change the tactic. It bothered Vicki, because Claire had been nothing but helpful since they'd arrived at the doors to the Four Seasons Centre. She was showing them around, leading them through behind-the-scenes areas; dressing rooms, green rooms, set storage – everything imaginable – and they were being as attentive as they could, but it was looking as though the opera house itself was a dead end.

"I don't trust her," he replied, unnecessarily. Claire was searching her key ring for the key that would open the door in front of them, and seemed – at the moment at least – largely unconcerned by his hostility toward her.

"I know that, but you're not helping."

"We're getting through all the same," Henry said blandly. It was enough to tell her that he wasn't going to change the way he was acting. Not that she really expected him to.

Vicki shook her head, turning her attention back to Claire as she finally pushed the door open; another storage closet, this one basically empty.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Henry said, surveying the room.

Claire shook her head. "Perhaps if you came back while we were rehearsing, you might find something then." She was looking at Vicki as she spoke, knowing that Henry would be out of commission, dead to the world, at any point when the rehearsals were going on.

"No." Henry stated. "Not unless you schedule a rehearsal after the sun has gone down."

Claire sighed. "The rehearsals are on a set schedule, Mr Fitzroy. There's nothing I can do to change them."

Henry's expression said what he thought of that, and Vicki could only glare at him. When it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else, she turned back to Claire.

"I'll come by during your next rehearsal. When is it?" she asked.

"Vicki—"

"I'll bring Mike if he's available, Henry. This is _my_ investigator business, not yours, remember? I've done plenty of dangerous things before. I don't even think this ranks. Who says something's going to happen?"

Henry's look was doubtful. It also spoke of him firmly biting his tongue. Vicki suspected she knew what he wanted to say – there seemed to be a lot of that going around today, between him and Mike.

"Who is Mike?" Claire asked politely. They hadn't filled her in on the police investigation, despite it being related to what they were doing now. Vicki had known Mike wouldn't appreciate it – to put it lightly. He'd probably be livid – and Henry… Well, Henry didn't really want to include Claire in anything they were doing, so he certainly wasn't going to share information with her.

"A friend. And a good cop," Vicki said. She saw distrust enter Claire's eyes, and before she could protest, added, "I work with him on a lot of my cases. He's my inside guy. If you want my help, you'll accept it."

Claire inhaled and seemed to swell up, then deflated and nodded. "Very well. I will trust your judgement, Miss Nelson."

Vicki squinted at her – it was dark in here – and matched the gesture of agreement. "Good."

* * *

"Well, see I'm not really surprised you didn't find anything," Coreen said. It was the next morning, and after Vicki had spent the evening searching the Four Seasons Centre, and then the rest of the night following an alleged cheating husband – a job she was writing the report up for now. She expected a very embarrassed wife in later to settle the fees, since the man had been sneaking around trying to track down his (adopted) wife's birth parents and records, not seeing anyone else. As such, it took her a moment to figure out which case Coreen was talking about.

"Why's that?" she asked, looking up from the report.

"The Macbeth curse is a curse, Vicki," she stated, tone saying this was obvious and that Vicki should know the implications of what she was saying. And sure, Vicki'd learnt a little about curses, but that certainly didn't make her an expert.

"Okay, so it's a curse. What're you telling me?" she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose and going back to writing.

"No one really knows how the curse is enacted. And I can't find any records that resemble what we've had going on. Usually someone'll fall and break something, and I found one or two records of people dying, but—"

"We have an epidemic. It doesn't fit the pattern. So what does that tell us?"

"That… they should have cancelled the production when the first actor died?" Coreen offered.

"Well, maybe," Vicki said with a shrug. "But I more meant that—" she watched the thought dawn in Coreen's mind and spread across her features.

"It _can't_ be the curse, because it's deviated so far from the pattern!" she exclaimed.

Vicki nodded. "Exactly. So either the curse has gone crazy or someone's using it as a cover for committing murder."

"With magic. Remember what Claire said?" Coreen added. Then, "So we just have to find the witch doing this, and case closed! We are getting _so_ good at this!"

"Great. So we only have to find one witch, while being unable to identify her – or him – as a witch, mind, in a city of 3 million people," Vicki stated.

Coreen looked discouraged by this for a moment, and then opened her computer.

"I'm on it!"

* * *

Chapter Four Preview

"Did you hear something?" Vicki asked, trying to get a better look at the interior of the storage room. She was having an awfully hard time seeing anything at all though.

"No… Are you okay, Vic?"

Vicki narrowed her eyes, still looking in the closet. "Yeah. I'm fine. But…" she trailed off, eyes going wide.

There were eyes staying back at her.


End file.
